Chapter 373: The Iron Needles

Dang Mujin sought out the four physicians who were preparing to return to the southern coast near Gwangju. However, the physicians seemed puzzled by his visit.

“What? You want to give us a souvenir?”

”…Didn’t you hear? I asked you to delay your departure a bit for this reason.”

“This is the first we’re hearing of it.”

Dang Mujin had assumed that the physicians would have been informed by Chusam, but to his surprise, they had no idea why he had asked them to wait.

He began to understand Chusam’s intentions. Chusam had once mentioned that there are two ways to elicit the best reaction when giving a gift: first, by exceeding expectations, and second, by giving it at an unexpected time. Receiving a gift out of the blue is always more delightful than when it’s anticipated.

And when the recipient is happier, the giver feels more fulfilled. Chusam had been considerate in his own way.

So, instead of explaining further, Dang Mujin simply handed over four iron needles.

“Please, take these.”

The physicians’ mouths fell open in astonishment as they examined the needles.

”…Are you really giving these to us?”

“Yes. They’re made of iron, so they won’t rust or break easily.”

“Iron!”

The physicians had never heard of anything other than weapons being made from iron, let alone such delicate needles. It was amusing to see these seasoned physicians, some in their forties and others nearing sixty, fussing over the tiny needles like children.

But the iron needles crafted by Dang Mujin were indeed valuable.

After a brief moment of excitement among themselves, the physicians finally expressed their gratitude to Dang Mujin.

“Iron is not something we come across every day. Are you sure we can accept such a precious gift?”

“There’s not much iron, to begin with. I would have liked to make a couple of sets for each of you, but time and materials were limited. Please accept them as a token. I hope they don’t seem too inadequate.”

“Oh, they’re more than enough.”

Typically, acupuncture requires at least six to twenty needles at once, meaning a couple of sets are needed for practical use. However, even a single needle from Dang Mujin was of immense value.

The physicians imagined themselves using the iron needle in front of patients and other physicians, pretending not to know its worth. It was an exhilarating thought. While no one might recognize the material as iron, they would certainly notice its distinct appearance.

People would undoubtedly inquire about the needle’s origin, and the physicians could proudly say they had traveled all the way to Sichuan to learn medicine and acquire such a tool.

The four physicians thought to themselves, ‘Coming to the Dang family was the right decision.’

Most merchants rarely venture beyond three hundred li from their hometown. The distance from the southeastern coast of the Central Plains to Sichuan is daunting for the average person.

When the physicians announced their intention to travel to distant Sichuan to study medicine, their peers and townsfolk had similar reactions, questioning why they would undertake such a dangerous and arduous journey when they were already skilled enough to make a living.

It wasn’t an unreasonable question. Many physicians had been harmed or robbed while traveling the thousands of li to and from Sichuan.

Yet, these physicians gathered at the Dang family estate, undeterred by such risks. They were not content with merely making a living through their modest skills. They were prepared to endure hardship and danger to heal more ailments.

The iron needles were a gesture of goodwill and recognition from the world’s foremost physician to these dedicated practitioners. The physicians’ hands trembled with joy as they held the needles.

Someday, possessing a Dang family’s iron needle might become a measure of a physician’s skill.

But the physicians’ joy reached its peak in the next moment.

Dang Mujin spoke to them.

“Oh, and make sure to take the needle with your name engraved on it.”

“Our names?”

The physicians squinted at the needles. Three of the four couldn’t find their names, not because they were illiterate, but due to their aging eyes.

However, the relatively younger physician spotted his name engraved on the flat handle of his needle.

“Here it is, here it is. Hak Hyoun! Elder, hand that over. I’ll distribute them.”

Each needle crafted by Dang Mujin had a designated owner.

How many times in life does one get to experience such luxury? The physicians were on the verge of tears.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you. I don’t know how we can ever repay this kindness…”

The reaction was far greater than expected, and Dang Mujin felt a warm satisfaction. He smiled faintly and said, “If the opportunity arises, please visit the Dang family estate again. Even if it’s ten or twenty years from now. If circumstances don’t allow, you can send your children.”

The physicians understood the meaning behind Dang Mujin’s words. He was suggesting they share not only their accumulated experiences but also those they would gather in the future.

Dang Mujin’s vision extended beyond personal and familial success to something greater. The physicians, filled with emotion, each took a needle and left.

In the days following the physicians’ departure, the Dang family estate noticeably quieted down.

Jang Il-nam continued to wander around the estate and its surroundings, carrying or holding children as always, while Mok Wan-ah dozed off like a cat in a sunny spot.

As the days grew warmer, basking in the sun would become unbearable, so Mok Wan-ah intended to enjoy as much sunlight as possible while the weather was still pleasant.

Around that time, rumors of a peculiar atmosphere between Sam An-bul and Hwa Yeon-shin spread throughout the estate.

Some claimed to have seen Sam An-bul and Hwa Yeon-shin smiling at each other, while others said they had caught them holding hands in secret.

The relationship between the two former monks seemed quite delicate, but no one dared to comment on it. After all, both had half-abandoned their monastic lives.

Moreover, discussing their relationship required considerable courage. After all, everyone only has one life.

The people of the Dang family estate made sure the rumors didn’t leak outside.

After the physicians left, the person whose life changed the most was undoubtedly Dan Seol-young.

For nearly half a year after Dang Mujin’s return, Dan Seol-young had been guiding Merchant Wang, and she finally succeeded in offloading a significant portion of her duties onto him.

It wasn’t that Wang took a long time to understand the work. It simply took about half a year for Dan Seol-young to be convinced of his reliability.

Eventually, she gave Wang her seal of approval.

That day, Dan Seol-young approached Dang Mujin and said, “I think we should give Mr. Wang a title.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Mr. Wang will be handling financial matters with outsiders. It would be awkward without a title. Everyone knows I’m married to you, so it’s not an issue for me, but…”

After some deliberation, Dan Seol-young and Dang Mujin decided on an appropriate title for Wang.

The Chief Steward of the Dang family estate.

When Dang Mujin first addressed him as Chief Steward Wang, Wang smiled with satisfaction.

“Chief Steward… I like it. It suits me well.”

Wang seemed genuinely pleased with his new title.

In any family, the position of chief steward is among the top five in terms of rank.

For Wang, who had amassed wealth as a self-made merchant but never gained honor, the title of Chief Steward of the Dang family estate was immensely gratifying.

With so much work now delegated to Chief Steward Wang, Dan Seol-young finally found some leisure.

However, she didn’t spend her newfound free time lounging in the sun like Mok Wan-ah.

Previously, she had been busy handling necessary tasks, but now she was busy indulging in her hobbies.

Dan Seol-young showed her latest creation to Dang Mujin.

”…What is this?”

“It’s an improved version of the Odok Shinsa. I made it with Wan-ah’s help.”

Improving the Odok Shinsa, a poison-laden sand, was just the beginning.

Dan Seol-young began pestering the blacksmiths to create all sorts of items: nets with hooks, ground-scattering weapons, throwable and launchable weapons, and more.

She even started learning blacksmithing herself.

Allowing a woman into a forge was almost taboo, but Dan Seol-young was an exception.

Her craftsmanship was not extraordinary, but her creative and unique ideas were unmatched.

She could conceive of complex items that others couldn’t even imagine, naturally drawing the interest of the curious blacksmiths.

Among the items she created with the blacksmiths, the one that intrigued Dang Mujin the most was a small, cross-shaped blade that resembled a butterfly made of steel from a distance.

“Seol-young, how do you use this?”

“Well, you could throw it, I suppose?”

”…How can you not know the purpose of something you made?”

Dang Mujin spoke with disbelief, but Dan Seol-young was unfazed.

“You don’t always need certainty to create. You can throw and maneuver a Bi-ryun, right? Try using this in a similar way. If it shows potential, improve it. If not, discard it. Isn’t that right?”

With a somewhat carefree attitude, Dan Seol-young created all sorts of items.

The remarkable thing was that many of these creations turned out to be quite useful.

Most people would have dismissed it as mere luck, but Dang Mujin knew better. He understood it wasn’t just a stroke of fortune.

It was one of those days when spring had deepened into early summer, and the heat was starting to creep in.

A visitor arrived at the Dang family estate early in the morning, calling out loudly from outside the gate.

“Is anyone there?”

At such an odd hour, it was usually someone in urgent need of medical attention.

Dang Mujin, who was tinkering with something Dan Seol-young had made in the yard, quickly got up and opened the gate.

“What seems to be the problem?”

But the man standing outside didn’t look like a patient. Judging by his attire, he seemed to be a government messenger, though more of a lowly errand boy than an official.

The man seemed a bit flustered to see Dang Mujin himself and bowed slightly, handing over a small note.

“I didn’t expect the master of the house to come out personally. I’m not here because I’m unwell… I’ve come to deliver a message.”

“Ah, thank you.”

The message was delivered by a homing pigeon, a costly method typically used for official communications between distant offices.

There was only one person who would go to such expense to send a message to Dang Mujin.

He unfolded the note.

In tiny script, just two lines were written. The handwriting was unmistakably that of Namgung Myung.

[End of June. Namgung family head Namgung Myung’s wedding. Your presence is requested.]

“End of June” meant the last day of the sixth month. The distance was considerable, so he would need to leave soon to arrive at the Namgung estate in time.

Dang Mujin smiled warmly. The wedding itself was secondary; it was the mention of Namgung Myung as the head of the Namgung family that stirred something within him. So, Namgung Myung had indeed taken over the family leadership.

The main point of the letter was in the first line, but what truly piqued Dang Mujin’s interest was the next line.

[Chungcheon Alliance Leader Hyun Gong, Beggar Sect Chief Hong Jusan, and Future Leader Wang Jincheong expected to attend.]

The title “Chungcheon Alliance Leader” before Hyun Gong’s name sounded odd.

’…Not the Wudang Sect Leader Hyun Gong, but the Chungcheon Alliance Leader Hyun Gong?’

The Chungcheon Alliance was a coalition formed by the Wudang Sect and a few smaller sects in the area. The now-defunct Taeui Sword Sect had been the second-largest in the alliance, so its influence wasn’t particularly strong. To put it bluntly, the title of Chungcheon Alliance Leader was akin to being the head of a local gang near Wudang Mountain.

‘Has Hyun Gong not yet become the sect leader? Or is the position of Chungcheon Alliance Leader more significant than the Wudang Sect Leader?’

There was no way to resolve these questions.

But what puzzled him even more was the next part.

‘Beggar Sect Chief Hong Jusan and Future Leader Wang Jincheong?’

It was expected that Wang Jincheong would rise to the position of future leader, signified by eight knots, indicating he was the next in line for the Beggar Sect’s leadership.

The issue was that Hong Geolgae was not the Beggar Sect Leader but held the position of Chief with seven knots.

Gaining two more knots was certainly commendable, but it placed him below Wang Jincheong in rank.

’…Why have Hong Geolgae and Wang Jincheong’s positions reversed? Wasn’t Hong Geolgae supposed to take over as leader? Could it be that Hwahwa Nogae is still holding onto the position?’

No, that couldn’t be. If Hwahwa Nogae were clinging to the leadership out of stubbornness, it would be Hong Geolgae, not Wang Jincheong, who would be the future leader.

Moreover, the word “Chief” was written slightly larger and underlined, as if to emphasize it.

Dang Mujin sensed Namgung Myung’s playful mischief in the writing.

‘There must be some story behind this… I’ll find out when I get there.’

Dang Mujin stretched, holding the small note in his hand.

The thought of going on a trip after so long made his steps feel lighter.